


Let's Be Honest

by TheLateNightStoryTeller



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, but I like stuff on AO3 because organization on my tumblr?, it was on tumblr :D, what organization that stuff is chaos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6413485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLateNightStoryTeller/pseuds/TheLateNightStoryTeller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3.14 missing scene, Jemma helps Fitz with his post nitramine injury.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Be Honest

Fitz sat on the little cot in the corner of the lab, sitting as still as he could as Jemma examined him.

He tried not to wince when the fabric of his shirt brushed against his wound, biting down on his tongue and hoping the pain didn’t show on his face. She was doing her best not to hurt him, he knew that, and he didn’t want her to worry.

She noticed anyway of course.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her hands drawing away to avoid inflicting anything further. “It’s your shirt I… I may need you to remove it.”

His face fell flat, the pain forgotten. “Um…”

“If you’d rather I find Lincoln-“ she began awkwardly.

“No, no he’s probably busy…“ he said quickly, not wanting to make a fuss.

What would the other agent think if he knew how embarrassed he was to remove his shirt in front of his lab partner? And why? Because she was a woman? Because he… because he had feelings for her? How could they be expected to work together if they constantly needed to ask the others for help? No. It wouldn’t do.

Jemma bit her lip, staring at him uncertainly. “It’s completely up to you. I know with the way things are between now it might be a bit… strange…”

“I don’t want to let our relationship interfere with our work,” he told her assuredly.

A smile tugged at her lips and she nodded, relieved. “Me neither.”

He smiled back before hurrying to undo the buttons. It needed to be done carefully of course. Too fast and he’d come off a bit too eager, but too slow and he may end up looking like he was stripping for her. Popping out buttons had never been so daunting.

“Do you need help?” He must have been dipping dangerously into _too slow_ territory because Jemma had began fidgeting awkwardly in front of him, reaching out a hand only to draw it back, continuing to worry at her bottom lip. “It’s not… does it hurt?”

Fitz shook his head swiftly, sending an actual jolt of pain down his neck and into his shoulder when, in his haste to remove it, he pushed part of the shirt into his wound. “Ow- er… no… no I’m fine.” He fumbled.

She crossed her arms, eyebrows raising in disbelief and he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. Puffing out a sigh, and keeping her gaze impressively fixed on the angry mark throbbing on his neck, she stepped forward to resume her inspection. He was almost a little hurt that she _hadn’t_ been tempted to let her eyes wander, just a bit…

“It doesn’t show any signs of infection,” she told him, noticeably relieved. “And I think we can rule out any remaining traces of the nitramine.”

“Yeah, I think I’d be a little more compact if there were,” he said dryly, regretting the comment when it made her wince.

“I wish I’d been there,” she muttered. “I can’t imagine-“ Her mouth clapped shut and she swallowed, eyes darkening. “You didn’t have time to call me?”

“We were pretty tight,” he mumbled, but that wasn’t the entire answer. Didn’t she deserve honesty; after all they’d been through? “And… well I knew you’d be worried, I didn’t want-“

“Please don’t tell me you didn’t call because of that,” she deadpanned. She’d stood up as he spoke, once again crossing her arms over her chest as she frowned at him.

“I…” ‘ _Honesty Fitz,’ he reminded himself, ‘remember what hiding things brought before this?’_ “It wasn’t the entire reason but… it was… part of it.”

She was silent for what felt like a long time, looking him over until he had to drop his gaze away from the intensity hers.

“You are aware that _that_ is the precise opposite of not letting our relationship interfere with our work,” she said quietly at last. She didn’t seem _angry_ exactly, but she certainly didn’t seem pleased with him either.

Hunter had once said he’d fancy the power of invisibility and, right then, Fitz thought he would too. “I can see how it might fit into that category…”

“I think it fits in rather solidly,” she pressed.

“I would have called you though,” he vowed, meeting her eyes in a plea for her to understand. “If I’d needed your help, I promise I would have. I was about to when Daisy came up with a quicker solution.”

She kept his gaze for a few heartbeats longer, searching his face. Then she nodded, slowly, and he thought he might have seen her eyes drift down a little before they snapped back to the wound on his neck.

“I’m glad we can do this,” she said, and he caught a glimpse of a smile as she turned to make her way to the supply cabinet.

“Have conversations when I’m half naked?” he joked, and Jemma twisted her head to send him a smirk that made blood rush to his cheeks.

“Be honest with each other,” she supplied. She returned, disinfectant in hand, and her smirk widened. “Although I _am_ glad for that too.” This time he was certain she’d snuck a peek at him before calling her attention to what she was about to do. “This might sting a little,” she told him apologetically, shaking the bottle to mix the liquid inside. “But you have a lot of exposed area and I don’t think we should risk it.”

He tilted his head, allowing her access to the raw side of his neck. “Go ahead.” Better to get the unpleasantness over with as soon as possible.

Her cool fingers gripped his bare shoulder, holding him steady as she aimed the spray. It burned as the mist hit his neck and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, cursing whoever had thought it was a good idea to create projectile nitramine.

“I think you should be alright,” she told him, and he felt her other hand gently brush the opposite side of his face. He smiled gratefully at her and she smiled back before once again moving away to retrieve something from the cabinet.

“I might start wearing turtlenecks on missions from now on,” he muttered, still feeling the sting from the spray. “That way the only thing I’ll have for people to stick hazardous substances too is my face.” His eyebrows knitted together at the thought. _Not my face!_ “Maybe I should I get a ski-mask. Or… or a mask like Spiderman, or Deadpool…”

“So you can mask your secret identity as you fight crime,” Jemma mused, returning with a roll of gauze. “I always pictured you as Iron Man.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, warmth rushing through his chest.

“Don’t be so surprised,” she chuckled. “Who else could build a suit like that?”

“Uh, Tony Stark,” he reminded her.

She rolled her eyes. “I mean other than him. There’s no one I’ve met who’s nearly as brilliant as you.” She said it as if it were a simple fact but his heart still did a somersault.

“Except for you of course,” he added, pleased when it made her blush pink. “I think you’d be Captain America.”

She laughed. “I’m not even American.”

“Yeah, but who else could perfect the super soldier serum?” What a lovely shade of rose he could turn her cheeks. Was this what flirting with your best friend felt like? Knowing all the right compliments? He would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it.

She was still flushed as she gently taped a square of gauze over his wound, an easy smile painted through the pink, and he searched for something else, anything that would keep the haze of sunshine glowing around her.

“You could be Peggy if you’d prefer,” he tried, his breath catching when the side of her hand grazed the front of his shoulder. Would she believe it was the cold that had made him shudder? He was missing a layer. “You…” Her touch distracted him, words stalling when her fingers wrapped around his shoulder to steady him while she pressed down the tape. “You… you’d… uh…. Peggy’s English.” _That had not been what he’d meant to say._

“Oh is she? I didn’t know,” Jemma answered slyly. Her eyes sparkled and he realized she knew _exactly_ what she was doing to him. Competitive little minx, trying to out flirt him.  It wasn’t fair that the skin of her fingers felt as if it were made of ice magic.

Finished now, she took a seat beside him on the little cot, surprising him when she leaned her head onto his good shoulder and took his arm. Now she _really_ wasn’t playing fair. His heart had jumped into his throat, blood rushing to his skin-

“Please don’t let me lose you again.” She was so quiet that he barely made out the words but the pain in her voice was a completely different type of ice, he could feel it’s grip on her, feel the jagged pieces of it ripping into him too, and he suddenly realized how much he’d scared her. “Please… please involve me if you think you’re going to implode.”

“I’m really not planning on doing it again,” he reminded her, attempting humor because he wasn’t sure what else to do.

She gripped him tighter and he heard her inhale sharply through her nose. “I need you to promise me…”

“I promise,” he told her softly.

“We’re in this together,” she pressed.

“Together,” he echoed and he felt her relax, though she still held onto him.

Wanting to reassure her that he was OK, that everything was going to be OK and she didn’t need to worry, he tilted his head to push his cheek into her hair, hoping that she’d understand what he didn’t know how to put into words.

_I love you, I’ll come back to you, I’ll involve you even if it scares me._

They sat like that for several minutes, spellbound, until his stomach let out a loud growl and she chuckled, breaking away but taking his hand to bring with her. When she stood, she pulled him behind her, taking him to his feet.

“You should probably get dressed so that we can have supper,” she decided. “If we’re lucky there’ll still be leftovers from last night.”

“I doubt it,” he objected good naturedly, slipping his arms back into his sleeves before getting to the buttons.

Hand in hand they made their way to the kitchen, feeling as if they’d lain one more stone down on their road together, an ever winding, ever surprising trail into the great, beautiful unknown.


End file.
